ightly puckered, and many lines of care and age
showed round the lips.

"I will just go upstairs and wash my hands," said Dr. Maybright. "Then I
will join you in the dining-room."

He ran up the low stairs to his own room; it was not only full of Aunt
Maria's possessions, but was guarded by the faithful Scorpion, who had
flown there in disgust, and now again attacked the Doctor's legs.

"There is a limit," he murmured, "and I reach it when I am bitten by
this toy terrier."

He lifted Scorpion by his neck, and administered one or two short slaps,
which sent the pampered little animal yelping under the bed; then he
proceeded down the passage in search of some other room where he might
take shelter.

Alice met him; her eyes glowed, and the color in her face deepened.

"We are all so glad you are back, sir," she said, with an affectionate
tone in her voice. "And Miss Helen has got the room over the porch
ready, if you'd do with it for a night or two, sir. I've took hot water
there, sir, for I saw the carriage coming up the drive."

"Thank you, Alice; the porch room will do nicely. By the way, can you
tell me where all the children are?"

But Alice had disappeared, almost flown down the passage, and the Doctor
had an uncomfortable half suspicion that he heard her sob as she went.

Dr. Maybright, however, was not a fanciful person--the children, with
the exception of baby, were all probably out. It was certainly rather
contrary to their usual custom to be away when his return was expected,
still, he argued, consistency in children was the last thing to be
expected. He went downstairs, therefore, with an excellent appetite for
whatever meal Mrs. Cameron might have provided for him, and once more in
tolerably good spirits.

There are some people who habitually, and from a strong sense of duty,
live on the shady side of life. Metaphorically speaking, the sunshine
may almost touch the very path on which they are treading, but they
shrink from and avoid it, having a strong preference for the shade, but
considering themselves martyrs while they live in it. Mrs. Cameron was
one of these people. The circumstances of her life had elected plenty of
sunshine for her; she had a devoted and excellent husband, an abundant
income, and admirable health. It is true she had no children, and it is
also true that she had brought herself by careful cultivation to a state
of chronic ill-temper. Every one now accepted the fact that Mrs.